Like Jeffrey Bernard, I have been unwell.
It has not, sadly been down to copious amounts of booze and my raffish ways down at the club.
I think it was because I had the final part of my root canal treatment on Thursday and my face rebelled against being drilled, pummelled and smooshed, and I woke up in the early hours of Friday morning with a migraine which had been born of the headache I had been nursing ever since I left the dentist’s surgery.
This was most disappointing as I had a long standing engagement at my friend Julie’s birthday party. It was a Sixties themed bash, and I had purchased the most fabulous mini dress in Thelma from Scooby Doo orange, with huge polka dots on it.
I must save it for the next party.
Even I know it cannot be worn at school. It is very, very short.
Somebody must host a party which I can wear it at very soon.
I spent large parts of the weekend curled up miserably on the sofa, scowling and feeling sorry for myself.
I felt better by late on Saturday night – when it was all too late.
I consoled myself by reading the Cazalet Chronicles.
I LOVE those books. I am already half way through volume four, as I really can’t put them down, and am wandering around, immersed in the lives of others, not worrying if the children go to school in their pyjamas or the dinner burns to a cinder. I haven’t read such a fantastic series of books in just about forever.
I do not want to do anything else but read.
It is brilliant.